


Let's Go Home

by inatrice



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Angst, Deathfic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 10:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inatrice/pseuds/inatrice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altaïr takes a rest in his library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Go Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written after I saw [this](http://enduro.deviantart.com/art/ACR-Homecoming-270593932?q=gallery%3Aenduro%2F621804&qo=11).

It takes longer than he’s used to, but his eyes finally adjust to the darkness. He greets it like an old friend. The closeness of it. The peace.

Tired, he is so tired.

He feels his way over to the chair. He just needs a moment to rest. Just a moment and then he can continue to push ever onwards.

With a heavy sigh he sinks down into the chair, the final key clutched tightly in his old, shaking hands. Voices whisper to him at the edge of his hearing, whisper his name. Or do they? Damn his old ears.

His eyes flutter. Perhaps it would do to rest them for a moment as well.

A hand is placed on his shoulder and moves up the back of his neck. He jerks, startled, and looks up into the eyes of Maria.

“Altaïr, my love.” She whispers, smiling warmly at him. Her eyes are bright in the gloom of the library. His heart soars. “I have missed you.”

“And I, you.” He answers quietly. He manages a small smile. Maria leans down and kisses his lips softly. Oh how he’s missed the taste of her. “You have not aged a day, my love.” Confusion paints his words. “Where have you been?”

Her eyes turn soft. “I’ve been with you the whole time, Altaïr.” Her hand is rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder.

“But … Abbas.” Altaïr closes his eyes tightly. Memories fight for dominance in his brain.

He feels fingers entwine into the hand that is not holding the key. His eyes snap open and his breath catches.

“M – Malik,” He gasps. Guilt floods him. "My dear friend. Forgive me. For doubting you," His words catch in his throat. "For failing you."

A wry smile is plastered on the other man’s face as he kneels before Altaïr, head shaking. “Do not fret, brother. It is good to see you again.” Malik looks like his old self. Confident, strong. Not like the emaciated shell of a man he had found in the dungeon so many years ago. That’s right. And then Malik’s head had been delivered to him in a burlap sack.

Altaïr glances between the two of them, looking as they had all those decades ago. “You both are dead.” He feels a small rage build up in him. “Why have you come back to torture me? I only wish to rest.”

Their eyes turn sympathetic. Maria places a hand on Malik’s good shoulder. “We have not come to torture, brother.” Malik tells him slowly. He glances at Maria. “It is indeed time for you to rest.” He squeezes Altaïr’s hand gently.

Maria leans her forehead onto Altaïr’s. “Close your eyes, my love, and when you are ready, we will take you home.”

Altaïr takes in a breath. He closes his eyes, reveling in the presence of two of his most treasured humans. He feels himself slump forward, head lolling, and a weight is lifted from his chest and shoulders. He can breathe like he hasn’t breathed in years. His body feels light and warm, a sensation he thought long gone. And then he understands.

He opens his eyes again and sees Malik’s smile and Maria’s warm expression. It gives him the strength to sit up straight again.

Malik huffs out a light laugh and helps Altaïr to his feet.

“Let’s go home, Altaïr. Our true home. Forever.”


End file.
